


everything will break

by groundopenwide



Series: Nick!POV [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Character Study, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 14:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groundopenwide/pseuds/groundopenwide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Nick watches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything will break

Sometimes, Nick watches.

He knows that Sebastian likes to think that he's elusive, indifferent. An enigma, if you will. That's why Nick would never let in on the fact that he watches. Sebastian is more of an open book than he's aware of, and Nick merely observes. He observes and catalogs each time the shutter falls behind Sebastian's eyes, and he closes himself off; each time the faintest glint of moisture can be spotted against the hazel of his irises; and even the rare times when that tiny sparkle emerges because Sebastian is truly  _happy._  These instances give Sebastian away so completely, and he isn't even conscious of it.

It is easy to remain silent on his side of their shared dormitory and just  _watch,_  earning every tidbit of information about the other boy without even having to ask. He watches each morning as Sebastian deftly buttons his blazer and squares his shoulders as he heads for the door, his shields falling effortlessly into place. He watches in class, where Sebastian is always reclined back in his chair and radiating a bored, careless attitude. He watches at lunch, when Sebastian forgoes sitting with the rest of the Warblers and veers left towards the science building to his usual spot beneath the looming oak tree behind it (Nick surprisingly found this out by accident; he had been coming out of a short meeting with Professor Douglas when he sighted Sebastian passing the front steps of the building).

He watches acutely at Warblers practice, where the silent and collected Sebastian morphs into a determined and commanding captain (well, ex-captain; though Nick almost misses Sebastian's daily team runs in comparison to Hunter's barked directions and excruciating dance rehearsals). It is only in the commons room that Sebastian seems to fall into place, though he is so obviously uncomfortable. Those of the group who had been present at the incident-that-shall-not-be-named still tend to aim their cold stares and muttered whispers at Sebastian, who takes the poor attention in stride with his signature smirk and a roll of his eyes. Despite the rest of the team's evident dislike for him, he remains at the top of the solo list, so obviously one of the Warblers' best and brightest.

Nick always,  _always_  watches whenever Sebastian gets the chance to open his mouth and sing. There is something about his voice that expresses every single one of the emotions that Sebastian tries to shove down and keep hidden from the world, the emotions that Nick takes note of with each passing moment. He often finds himself wishing he knew how to convey that much  _feeling_ in his own singing, but then he thinks about the haunted glint in Sebastian's eye that comes from the memories that must have brought on those emotions, and the hope immediately vanishes.

He watches, and he doesn't know exactly what's happened to Sebastian, but he knows that it's turned this charismatic and charming boy into a broken, self-destructive shell.

Watching Sebastian at night—when they are alone in the dorm and the boy seems to have stripped away a few of his protective layers—is the most intriguing. Nick watches as Sebastian loosens his tie and chucks it aimlessly across the room, as if the striped piece of fabric has been constricting him. He watches when Sebastian is hunched over his desk in the corner, staring blankly down at his textbooks as his mind wanders to places it pains Nick to think of. He watches for the slight cinch between Sebastian's brows when he gets stuck on a calculus problem; the visible locking of his jaw when he receives a text message that irritates him; the inevitable frustrated running of his fingers through his hair to loosen the gel when he comes back to the room looking particularly exhausted.

Nick watches each night as Sebastian leans over to switch out the light at his bedside, his fingers hovering over the lone picture frame that rests next to the lamp. Nick has examined the photograph before; it is a basic drugstore print of a picture that someone had managed to snap on the afternoon that Blaine came back to invite them all to  _West Side Story._  In it, Nick and Sebastian and Blaine stand in the center of the group, a sea of red and navy blazers with their arms all thrown around one another. Blaine is tucked beneath Sebastian's shoulder, his cheeks flushed and his mouth open widely as if he were in the midst of laughing when the photo was taken. Sebastian's grin is bright and genuine, his eyes utterly open and unguarded, and Nick had to nearly do a double-take the first time he looked over the picture. Sebastian  _never_  smiled like that; he never appeared to be so uninhibited and  _happy._

And every night without fail, Sebastian's eyes glimpse over the photograph, something deeply pained and regretful spreading across his features. Seconds later, he will turn out the light and roll over onto his side, leaving Nick with a view of the long curve of his spine and his shoulder blades, which will begin to tremble ever so slightly. The room will remain eerily silent, and Nick will just  _watch_ as Sebastian cries himself to sleep, and then he will attempt a smile when Sebastian crawls out of bed in the morning, his eyes sunken and bloodshot.

During the quiet moments, when there is no homework to be done and no Warblers rehearsal to attend, Nick watches carefully over Sebastian's shoulder as he slouches at his desk in front of the computer. He watches as the boy logs into an empty e-mail inbox; watches as he scrolls down his Facebook timeline and reads the posts of the few friends he has. But most of all, Nick watches for the moment when Sebastian pulls open the Skype window, the mouse hovering just a moment too long over the call button next to Blaine's name.

Nick is almost sure that Blaine would answer, if Sebastian ever were to really call. But that's the thing; Sebastian won't. Other things have happened, and his broken, self-destructive shell of a roommate has moved past the self-destructive phase to become just that: a broken shell.

Nick watches, because he has to. When the time comes, he'll be the only one Sebastian has, even if the other boy doesn't know it.


End file.
